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Lonely Pencil Sharpener

Pencil sharpeners are whores. And you’re the pimp. We all know this. Even since a young age we would have dozens of pencils and only one pencil sharpener. You stick in pencil after pencil, red, blue, orange, pink, number 2, hard lead, soft lead — some don’t quite fit, but you cram them in anyways — it doesn’t matter to you. All that matters is the pencils keep getting sharpened until they go out into the rough world of paper, get dull again, and need to come back. Pencils come and go, but you use that same poor sharpener until it too, dulls and can no longer function, and you get a new one. It has seen so many pencils, but can’t seem to remember any of them. It’s all such a blur. This lonely pencil just wants one connection that will last, that’s all it asks. It just wants to feel special. In a perfect world you would have one pencil sharpener for every pencil you use, but this isn’t a perfect world. You line up the next pencil sharpener and make sure it is tight and firmly mounted on the wall. You add a drop of oil to prevent squeaking, turn a blind eye, and start lining up pencils again.

42 thoughts on “Lonely Pencil Sharpener”

I’ll bet when you call 900 numbers, you never ask what they’re wearing. It’s more like:

“What are you writing with tonight? Faber? Ticonderoga? How long? Does it have any teeth marks on it? Will you bite it for me? Mmmm. Okay, now nibble the eraser. Yeah. Write me something sexy. No, go slower. That’s right…make those looonng loops on the Ys…oh, yeeeaaahhh….”

remind me to stop writing love letters in Courier New,
but this is hilarious.
Your comments are like the appendix to my posts — the booky kind, not the body part. if they were a body part it’d be more like the gallbladder